


This Has Changed Everything

by ohfuckiteverythingistaken



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Humor, First War with Voldemort, Independent Harry, M/M, Sane Voldemort, Smart Harry, What-If
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 09:42:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7165970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohfuckiteverythingistaken/pseuds/ohfuckiteverythingistaken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Voldemort goes to Godric's Hollow in order to kill little Harry, whom he believes to be his mortal enemy. Lily's love for Harry is stronger and more wicked than anticipated, which makes her do unthinkable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. This has changed everything

**Author's Note:**

> warnings: grammar and other mistakes as english isn't my first language, sorry in advance!  
> I would highly appreciate you taking the time to leave few words after reading.

The prophecy wasn’t complete. The thought was bugging his mind like a lazy fly that wouldn’t go away. He strode towards the entrance with utter confidence, lovingly stroking his wand under the sleeve. It was itching to be used. He could feel the wand’s anticipation as well as his own.

He paid no mind to the locked doors; they opened before him in an almost welcoming gesture. The house was unusually quiet, so they must have felt him approaching. He couldn’t be surprised. It has begun to be gradually more difficult to control his still growing power. Right now it was coming off of him in calm waves, but as soon as he unleashed his power, it’d transform into a rearing beast with a mind of its own. But that was a matter for a different time.

The stairs creaked as James Potter run towards him in a brave, but foolish spurt. He smiled thinly, recognizing a truly admirable curse that struck nowhere near him.

“I only want the boy.” He said quietly, circling his opponent. “You’re a fine wizard, but you will die if you don’t come to your senses”.

James stood on the last step of the stairs, determination written all over his face. Voldemort knew with one glance that Potter wasn’t here to talk. He withheld a sigh. As enjoyable killing was, he really did loathe getting rid of powerful, pureblood wizards.

“Let me pass”.

“Go to hell”.

The hood hid his eye roll, because _really_ , how many times could a man hear phrases like this? This thing has started to be disappointingly boring, so he raised his bone-white wand, pointing it at James.

He saw no fear in his opponent’s eyes, which made him a worthy one.

As he was opening his mouth, he saw a woman on top of the stairs. Oh, so she came to beg for his husband’s life now, hasn’t she? What a truly inspirational family drama he had gotten himself into. Before she could start a profound monologue about love, forgiveness or other values he had no interest in hearing about, he sent a killing curse at James, which hit without fail.

Voldemort was expecting a scream or at least a muffled sob, but the woman just stare at him, never lifting a gaze. It was an unnerving look of bright green eyes gleaming with intelligence. Sadness was there, too, but deeply hidden like a matter-of-fact duty she knew she had to live with.

“You’re something different entirely” he heard himself say in a curious voice.

“After Severus had come to you, he ran up to me and told me about the prophecy and its content.” She slowly stepped down, stopping at his eyes level.

Her husband’s corpse was between them, marking a ghostly line.

“Fascinating” he said flatly, although he was boiling with rage inside.

That slimy backstabber. He always had an unease feeling about Snape, but he never thought the coward would actually betray him. Yet again he underestimated the power of love. How silly of him.

“And when I say that he told me its content, I mean the whole thing. I know every last bit of it”.

Voldemort’s eyes glowered dangerously. His hand sprung up to Lily’s throat and tightened around it, lifting her up from the steps. He’d watched with glee as her face turned red and would gladly wait for her to become white and cold, but corpses don’t answer questions. His grip loosened and she collapsed, sucking in air like a fish. Voldemort stood over her, never giving enough space for her to feel safe.

“How about you tell me then?” he asked silkily.    

“Promise me you leave us alone and I will even spell it out for you”.

He laughed humourlessly.

“You’re in no position to make demands”.

“Aren’t I?” she lifted her head, meeting his hard stare. “If you kill me then you will never know what was the prophecy really about”.

“Let us not use as determinative words such as ‘never’. I’m sure that I could somehow persuade Severus into telling me the whole thing. I’m very convincing, if you can believe.” His smile was all but comforting. “Besides, if you don’t spill, I will simply… hmm… I don’t know, start torturing your little boy?”

He could see her trying not to lose her composure, but the threat met its purpose. Lily’s defences crumbled before him. She shakily stood up, leaning on a wooden handrail.

“It says ‘neither can survive while the other lives’.” Her broken voice was music to his ears.

A wicked smile played on his lips.

“You foolish girl. Do you think that this will convince me to change my mind? If anything, it has only sealed the boy’s fate.”

He passed over the corpse, shoving Lily to the wall in order to bypass her. Unexpectedly, she grasped his sleeve pulling him down. Voldemort turned his head, narrowing eyes with irritation.

“Don’t try that again.” He said in a deathly cold voice.

“Before that part, there was something about you marking him as your equal” she breathed desperately.

He went still, his eyes searching for insincerity. But as much as he wanted it to not be true at the moment, Lord Voldemort couldn’t be lied to.

“So you claim that I will somehow mark the boy as my equal tonight and therefore won’t be able to kill him?”

Lily let go of his sleeve and gathered herself. She then stepped up, standing on the same step as Voldemort. She could only see his dim features under the hood, but the red eyes were glowing darkly, striping her of all the courage and leaving only vulnerability like an exposed nerve.

“Yes”.

He studied her for a long while. His face was blank; leaving her no clue as to what was he thinking. She could hear herself breathing loudly in a deadly silence that had fallen between them.

“Well then, we had found ourselves in a rather inconvenient stall, wouldn’t you say?” his lips twitched as if he was trying to stop himself from smiling. “Because if I can’t kill the boy… and obviously he still presents some sort of threat to me, if one believes in prophecies… then I can’t just let him be”.

With amusement he saw a glimpse of hope in Lily’s eyes.

“We can move out of the country. He would never hear about you, I would never…”

He tsked, silencing her.

“You say that now, dear, but what about his father? The boy would finally seek revenge, and by then he’d grow up to be a fine wizard. I can’t allow for such a crooked seed to blossom.”

She couldn’t help but tremble. His stare was emotionless, almost bored. But Lily was determined to save her little boy. She strained every bit of intelligence, which was so praised during her days at school and straightened up in front of the most feared wizard of all time.

“Then kill me and raise him as your own”.

She caught a glimpse of surprise in his eyes before he masked it with cold indifference, but that was enough for her to feel hopeful.

“You mad women.” He murmured. “I’m not going to be this bastard’s father…” His voice was dripping with disdain.

“I’m not asking you to.” Lily cut him off, words running from her mouth faster than she could think. “Just give Harry to one of your supporters. This way he will be risen up in your values and he will never become a threat.”

Although she couldn’t see his face clearly, Lily was sure he was quirking an eyebrow at her.

“What a truly vile proposition you’re making. You would sacrifice your son to evil?” He sneered.

“I would do anything to keep him alive.” She said without batting an eye.

Voldemort knew that he should just kill the boy and be done with it, but something about this night made him uneasy. And this woman… Her will was so strong that he couldn’t help but admire her for it. What a pointless death it would be.

“I see.” He contemplated, his eyes searching for something, pinning down Lily’s soul mercilessly. “Very well. I accept your application”.

“Application?” Her green eyes widened.

“Yes.” He replied slyly. “Come now, Lily Potter, we must make something of this blank spot on your pretty arm”.

He turned, going down the stairs without checking if she’s following.

“Oh, and do take Harry. I believe it’s never too early to become a Death Eater”.

 


	2. The Letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your kind reviews, I look forward to reading your opinions about this one. As usual, grammar and other mistakes ahead.

            Headmaster’s office has never been so crowded. Not only teachers had bent their heads in order to see what was being written on a piece of parchment, but also paintings, in a rather unbecoming manner, gathered in a picture’s frame right above the desk. The room had an air of anticipation, as every person’s eyes were focused on an unmoving quill.

            Dumbledore was sitting in front of the desk, his bright eyes twinkling. Only he appeared to be completely at ease.

            It was 31st of July. And although for ten years there hasn’t been as much as a whisper as to whether Harry Potter was alive or not, Dumbledore had begun his day as usual; starting from sending out letters to new students at the day of their birthday.

            He put the letter into an envelope, sealing it. Everyone’s heads bent down even more.

            “Oi – watch out Severus! Take those hair away from my eyes,” screamed Flitwick, who was standing on his toes.

            Snape found it beneath him to answer, but he tilted his head a bit. His dark eyes were hungrily looking at the blank envelope. After all those years spent searching for Lily, risking his life in order re-establish a connection with the Death Eaters, listening to every scrappy rumour, all of that day in and day out, here he was, grasping at the last chance of finding her.

            Others were not so much thinking about Lily Potter, but her son, who disappeared mysteriously along with her, leaving behind a lifeless body of James Potter.

            And then the quill jumped, effortlessly moving towards the envelope and scratching an address on the paper. The quill returned then promptly to its place near the ink and froze. Just as frozen were all the observers, because the address was pointing at the suburbs of London, in the part that was particularly favoured by purebloods.

            “It’s in the neighbourhood of Malfoy’s Manor,” commented Snape with a sour expression on his face, straightening up.

            “I suggest we hurry up then, Snivellus,” barked Sirius, already moving towards the door. “I’m not leaving him there for any second longer.”

            “Of course, you hot-headed imbecile,” drawled Snape, eyeing Black with unhidden disgust. “I tell you what, why don’t you just barge in there and save us the horror of your company. I’m sure the Death Eaters will be more than happy to see you.”

            “You’re one to talk. How _are_ your friends from the dark side? Do they still want you captured and thrown under your old master’s feet or has he grown weary and ordered to just kill you on sight?”

            “That’s quite enough, boys,” Dumbledore’s steady voice had a steel ring to it, cutting them right off. “I would like you all to remain silent about what you had seen today. Furthermore, for now, I ask you to do nothing. Yes, Sirius,” his eyes lingered on Black, who looked like he was about to start arguing, “you heard me right. This isn’t something I would want to say twice.”

            The room fell silent, as everyone’d started to imagine what on earth would Potter’s boy be doing in the nest of snakes.

*

            The boy in question was deeply unaware of the attention he was getting behind the centuries-old walls of Hogwarts. He was sitting in the corner, told to stay silent and for once in his life not make a mess around himself. Frankly, he decided that Lucius was strongly overreacting. And as for that broken window – well, it had it coming.

            The hall was enormous and obnoxiously soaked in gold. Only the mahogany floor escaped the omnipresent aureate feature. It was as if someone had poured out melted gold from the celling and decided to let it slowly spill onto the walls. Shit loads of hard, wooden chairs were set in horizontal lines facing a large throne. In comparison to the hall, the throne looked simple, and certainly not exactly comfortable, as it was made from metal and metal only. Harry knew; he used to play on it when he was a kid. Which of course got him in hour-long monologues from Lucius about how he’s going to get himself killed. Personally, Harry didn’t see how the two things had anything in common.

            It was his birthday and he was told to sit in a corner! He couldn’t wait to complain about it to Voldemort.

            Unfortunately, the man wasn’t here yet, which was disappointing. Harry had little to do in the manor with exception of studying (greatly approved by Lucius) and doing all kinds of pranks (greatly disapproved by Lucius). Voldemort’s presence always seemed to brighten up the hollow halls of the manor and Harry was looking forward to hearing all about the wizard’s recent adventures.  

            The heavily engraved with golden patterns doors swinged open. Harry raised his head hopefully, but at the sight of Lucius he sighed. Lucius was the only person who was allowed to stay in the manor, the privilege that he’d taken too seriously, almost never leaving the house. Harry knew the man had a son and couldn’t stop asking himself why the hell was Lucius so compelled to guard him rather than spend time with his own family. He came to the conclusion that either the son was a deformed monster or Lucius was just really aching to get a promotion in the Death Eater ranks.

            “Potter! Stop hiding for Salazar’s sake.”

            Harry snickered, stepping out of the shadows, which were just a moment ago clinging to him fondly.

            “No need to get all flustered, Lucius,” he spoke dryly. “I’m not up to anything, if that’s what keeps you up at night.”

            “Yet,” growled the blonde. “I have something for you.”

            Harry jumped like an excited eleven-year-old, whom he was. His green eyes shone brilliantly in the dim light.

            “A present?”

            “Not quite,” thin lips quirked upwards.

            “If that’s another book, I swear, I’ll throw it right back at ya.”

            “What an exquisite language you chose to use,” scoffed Lucius. “And no, it’s not a book, however much needed it is. It’s a letter.”

            He handed it to Harry, who eyed the letter with curiosity.

            “Oh, right! It’s from Hogwarts. Wait a minute – why is the seal broken?”

            “I had to check it.”

            Harry’s eyebrows rose. “Check it? For what? A poisonous writing?”

            “You never know, and then I would be the one hold responsible before the Dark Lord.”

            “Yada yada yada. You and the Dark Lord, I’ll never get tired of listening what awful things he’s going to do to you because of me.”

            “You spoiled brat,” but Harry wasn’t listening anymore, turning his attention to the latter.

            He’d been accepted to Hogwarts! He couldn’t believe that he was finally leaving the manor. He hasn’t been allowed to step outside the gates for ten years now and it was the only rule he knew he couldn’t break. Voldemort himself told him so and rules coming from that man weren’t meant to be broken.

            “I’m going to Hogwarts! Lucius, are you going to cry after I leave?”

            “I’ll get my life back, more like it.”

            Harry flashed him a smile. Keeping in mind that this is Potter’s offspring, the boy wasn’t half as bad as Lucius had thought him to be in the beginning. Granted, he had his father’s traits such as getting himself in all kind of troubles and inflicting mischief on everything he laid hands on, but otherwise Lucius found himself enjoying boy’s clever remarks and wit.

            Still, why the Dark Lord decided to keep Potter around, was beside him.

            “You should go get changed into something more… acceptable.”

            Harry looked down at his worn out shirt and dark jeans. His clothing style was another thorn at Lucius’ side, who winced every time he saw Harry in Muggle clothes.

            “Are we expecting guests?”

            “Use that clever mind of yours and make a guess.”

            Not sparing him another glance, Lucius turned, heading toward the doors. He was walking with noticeable stuck-up stiffness, but somehow still maintaining an air of finesse around him.

            Harry used the doors on the opposite side of the hall, which led to a dark corridor with paintings covered up in cloth. He suspected that wasn’t very nice thing to do to a painting as he could imagine it must have been very boring to gape into a piece of fabric.

            The manor had lots of unused bedrooms and Harry slept in numerous of them, but his favourite room was one with a beautiful view on the front garden. Behind the massive doors the room looked like it didn’t belong to the gloomy manor. Harry found some useful charms and practiced it, changing the space to his liking. He troubled Voldemort for good few weeks before the man agreed to cast a spell on the house, which allowed Harry to use magic undetected.

            His bedroom was vast and bright, sun shining through the window that took up almost a whole wall. He didn’t own a lot, and largely it was just books from Lucius’ library. He kept them in unruly piles on the desk or in the bookstand beside the bed. But whenever he entered the room, his eyes firstly landed on a broom placed in the corner. He’d gotten it for his eighth birthday from Voldemort and since then he has been making use of it almost every day.

            The sky darkened as the sun had begun to go down. Harry observed the road before the gate, expecting guests with anticipation. In his right hand he was still clutching the letter as if it was his pass to freedom.

            Finally, the gates opened, letting in a clothed figure, followed by the other two, who kept their distance. Harry smiled with excitement, hurriedly taking off his Muggle clothes and putting on a fine dark-blue robe with silver finish. He kept his wand under his sleeve, tugging it close. As friendly Voldemort appeared to be, there always was an air of threat around him as if a bad move could set off the power he harnessed. Although, he wouldn’t kid himself, if anything were to happen, Harry would have been helpless like a sheep.

            When ready, he strode down the corridor and into the hall, trying to appear confident. He knew it was foolish to expose any weakness in front of Voldemort. He crossed through the hall and entered the lobby in time to see the guests coming through the front door. Lucius was already on his toes, looking like a little busy bee that had braced itself for the queen’s arrival. The metaphor made Harry giggle.

            “What do you find so funny, boy?” the voice purred.

            A smile froze on his lips as he looked up into the crimson eyes.

            “Bees.”

            One look into the boy’s mind and Voldemort knew exactly what that response meant. He decided to humour him, smiling with right corner of his mouth. He pulled down the hood of his black cloak, revealing sharp and handsome features. Dark hair was neatly slicked back, bringing out his high cheekbones and defined jaw. But no one in the right mind would pay attention to his beautiful face, because of the power that was coming off him in waves. It was intoxicating and made everyone in the room wary.

            The other two figures followed into their master’s footsteps and pulled down their hoods. One of them was a redhead woman with intensely blue eyes and warm smile. Harry knew her only fleetingly, but she always seemed strangely sad. The man on the other side had a scowl permanently sealed to his face and dark hair that fell loosely on the nape of his neck.

            “Happy birthday, Harry.” Lily crouched down, giving him a surprisingly heartfelt hug.

            Harry stiffened under the unexpected touch, but managed a smile in return. He noticed how observant Voldemort was of the situation, his expression seemingly emotionless, but his eyes alert.

            Lily stood up and flinched when a pale hand landed on her arm.

            “Touching,” Voldemort drawled lazily, he then let go of her and turned his attention back to Harry. “Shall we go further? Or should we keep standing in the lobby?”

            Lucius went pale and hastily led them through the door to the hall. Voldemort went ahead and stood near the throne, radiating with confidence. Harry couldn’t help but admire the man. He was everything he wanted to be.

            Everyone waited for Voldemort to sit, but he only tilted his head and looked at Harry with amusement. Harry didn’t shift his gaze.

            “Well, it is your birthday, isn’t it? I suppose it wouldn’t be fair to let me sit on the throne.”

            Only after a while Harry understood the meaning of his worlds. A thrill went down his spine as he cautiously approached Voldemort and then passed him, standing in front of the throne. Letting him play on it when he was five was something different entirely from allowing him to sit on it in front of his followers.

            “Go on, child.” He heard icy cold voice and felt like the devil himself was whispering to his ear.

            He swallowed hard and sat, looking at the dumbfounded Death Eaters below. Lucius appeared to be in a state close to fainting, the dark haired guy hadn’t changed his expression since arrival and Lily just stared, her face unnaturally pale. He gave them a small smile before he turned his gaze at Voldemort. The man’s expression didn’t betray his feelings, although his eyes had an odd gleam, which made Harry shiver.

            “My, my, you are a born leader, Harry,” he mused, as if still deep in his thoughts.

            “My lord, if I may, I think the boy’s ego doesn’t need any more soothing,” interrupted Lucius with a grimace.

            Voldemort chuckled darkly, slowly moving towards the chairs. Except Harry, everyone was waiting for their master to take a seat. The man sat gracefully on one of the wooden chairs, which were normally reserved for Death Eaters, portraying a rather unusual image. Harry felt out of place on the throne that made him look from above at Voldemort. Somehow, it didn’t diminish his superiority in one bit.

            “You may leave,” he said finally, turning to the standing awkwardly Death Eaters.

            They looked like it was the last thing they wanted to do, maybe with the exception of Lucius, who was bursting with happiness whenever he was allowed to leave Harry’s side. When the door had closed behind them, the enormous hall shrunk to him and Voldemort’s all-knowing eyes.

            “I heard that you got your letter from Hogwarts.”

            “Yes,” he answered with hesitation.

            “Don’t worry, I won’t forbid you to go there. Not even I am that cruel,” he said with a smile that told a different story.

            “Thank you… I guess.”

            “But as you must have been suspecting, there _is_ a reason why I kept you here cut off from the world. I believe it’s time to tell you why.”

            He stood up, pointing his bone-white wand at his chair. It levitated towards the throne, stopping just before Harry. As Voldemort sat, his eyes levelled with Harry’s.

            “Outside this walls I’m a feared Dark Lord.”

            “Um, I think you forgot to add that you’re feared here too.”

            Voldemort smiled cruelly.

            “If I truly was, then you would never make a remark like that or if you had, you would have been sorely punished.”

            Harry scowled, but said nothing.

            “And there is an on-going war outside. A one I’m wining, naturally, but nevertheless it still hasn’t ended. As an outcome, I have many enemies who will try to get to you at any given occasion.” Voldemort studied his face, but Harry kept it open for him. He had nothing to hide before this man.

            “Why would I be important to them?”

            “Because, child, your father was on their side and died by your mother’s hand. They believe that you should avenge him since your mother was my follower. But your mother’s dying wish was for me to become your guardian. I admit, I’ve never been a parental material, but I believe that you will reach your highest potential in my ranks.” He spoke in a silk, alluring voice and his eyes glowered softly, almost comfortingly.

            “You never told me about my parents,” Harry whispered, taken aback. Composing himself, he started with his head raised high. “I know how the wars roll. There are always two sides to every story and I choose to believe yours. They’d never looked for me, never cared about me. I wouldn’t dare to turn my back on you after all you’ve done for me.”

            Crimson eyes gleamed with delight. Voldemort stood up, motioning Harry to do the same. Harry carefully observed the man’s face, which has never been so visible relaxed. He now looked more handsome than ever and probably even more sinister.

            “Extend your left arm, child. I have a gift for you.”

    


	3. To Hogwarts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry, I suck at writing regularly.

**To Hogwarts**

            After his birthday, days have started to go by unnervingly slowly, as if the world had decided to make his last month before school as painfully boring as it was possible. Harry read every last book about Hogwarts he could find and even then he wasn’t able to stop himself from asking Lucius questions about the school. Oh, and he had so many. Lucius, surprisingly, held his temper in check and answered with saint’s patience.

            Every now and then Harry had been locking himself in his room, admiring his Death Eater mark like hypnotised. He’d heard rumours about the pain involved with branding a new follower, but they turned out to be just rumours. When Voldemort lifted his wand, the only thing Harry felt was quite pleasurable tingling. But that was also the last time he’d seen Voldemort, which made him feel disposable. Was branding him the last piece of Voldemort’s interest in Harry? And now that Harry has been marked, has Voldemort deemed him unworthy of his attention as he had accomplished his goal in turning Harry into his common follower? These questions were in Harry’s head constantly, but he would never ask them aloud. It would be pathetic.

            And now he was standing in the hall with his truck closed tightly, holding onto his wand even tighter. He was given this wand on his seventh birthday, another extraordinary gift from Voldemort that made his heart ache for the man. He was just discovering how much wizard’s attention has actually meant to him.

            “Ready, Potter?” cold voice brought him back to the world from his musings.

            He looked up at Lucius’s closed off face and suddenly felt that he’s going to miss this stuck up too. Maybe it wasn’t about Voldemort and Lucius, maybe it was that they were the only people he knew. The thought made him feel a little better about himself.

            “Ready.”

            Lucius opened the front door, letting Harry through first. Harry breathed in cold, morning air. Even the garden looked different. Dear Merlin, he was feeling sentimental about a garden!

            With this horrific information revealed, he decided to not look back and strode with Lucius through the path with eyes fixed on the gate. It was his first step in ten years outside the gates of the manor. He didn’t feel any different, but he knew that things are going to change. He was out in the open for the world, and if Voldemort wasn’t mistaken – Harry doubted if Voldemort knew how it feels to be wrong about something – lots of people would be also interested in Harry’s reappearance.

            Lucius’ hand landed on his shoulder and without any warning, Harry had been yanked into a whirl that made his stomach clench. Moments later he was back on cold ground, staggering like a drunk. He made a gagging sound, but he’d somehow managed to steady himself and went back to a standing position. Anticipating a scowling look on blonde’s face, he was surprised to see a mere frown.

            “You didn’t do so bad, Potter.”

          The compliment left him open-mouthed.

            “Now, if you’re quite done with this idiotic gawking, do compose yourself. You’re not making a great first impression.”

            With as much cool indifference as he’d managed to gather, he looked around. They were in a dark alley, but it was leading to a crowded street and even from here Harry could hear voices talking about scandalous prices for cauldrons.

            “I’m leaving you, Potter, but I do trust that you will find your way to the station. Just ask the bartender in the Leaky Cauldron about Hogwarts Express. You have one hour in Diagon Alley to buy all the things you need in your first year. The list is attached to your letter…”

            “You’re not my mom, Lucius, I got this,” Harry was growing impatient with man’s monologue. He’d read all about Diagon Alley and Hogwarts Express, he didn’t need this much explaining.

            Lucius sighed, not at all impressed with Harry’s attitude, but certainly not surprised.

            “Very well. Farewell, Potter.” A tight smirk was glued to his face. It made him look like his tooth was hurting.

            “Yep, and try not to get in trouble, Lucius. You know how I hate that,” Harry flashed him a cheerful smile and walked away, not waiting for the man’s response.

            Navigating in a crowd full of excited teenagers with their tired parents was one thing, but doing that with a huge truck was a challenge that Harry hadn’t quite lived up to. Sure, he got everything he needed, but casualties were countless. His every move would trample at least one foot if lucky and his path of terror had been followed by screams of outrage. By the time he’d reached his last stop, Olivander’s, Harry must have been the most wanted criminal in Diagon Alley.

            It was already getting late and the shop was empty, save for Olivander himself, who looked like he could use a long nap.

            “Hello, young man,” his voice sounded hoarse, but still somehow enthusiastic.

            Harry looked around with awe. Wands were pilled up to the rooftop and there was an air of pure magic in the room. It felt amazing. When with Voldemort, power and magic were almost suffocating, making him feel dizzy. But air in the shop was the opposite of that. It sharpened all his senses.

            “Hi, I would like to buy a wand.”

            “Yes, but you already have one. What’s wrong with it?” Olivander’s bright eyes were fixed on him.

            Harry raised his eyebrows, but didn’t ask how the man had known. He supposed a wandmaker would have a way of feeling wands.

            Instead, he put his wand on the counter in front of Olivander. Wizard almost hungrily took the wand, examining it carefully. It was as if he stumbled upon a very rare example that he hadn’t seen before.

            After few minutes of silence, Harry had gotten inpatient. He had a train to catch.

            “Um, could you maybe show me some wands?”

            Olivander reluctantly parted with the wand, giving it back to Harry.

            “It’s a thing of beauty, your wand. But it doesn’t feel yours.”

            “I didn’t steal it,” he exclaimed, quickly shoving the wand into his pocket.

            “I don’t think you stole it,” Olivander’s smile was far from comforting. “However, the person who gave it to you, did.”

            Harry blinked. He’d never asked Voldemort how he’d acquired the wand. Was it possible that he had been using a wand that had once belonged to now a dead man?

            It certainly wasn’t past Voldemort to give away things that he’d taken after murdering someone. Was his broom also “stolen”?

            “It’s not one of mine, so I can’t tell to whom it belonged, but you should be careful with it. Its loyalty doesn’t lie with you."

            “I’ve read about that occurrence. It has something to do with the fact that wands choose their masters, not the other way around like most wizards seem to think.”

            Olivander’s eyes widened with shock. From this moment he’d become noticeably nicer to Harry.

            “You’re absolutely right. Do you have special interest in wands?”

            “I have special interest in everything that is magical,” Harry smiled, feeling weirdly flattered. He liked teasing Lucius about not wanting to study, but in fact it has been quite educational and fascinating. He hadn’t been allowed to go outside so the world had to come to him.

            “I see,” Olivander turn around, facing his wands. “Let’s find out which of these deem you worthy then.”

            At the beginning, Harry had enjoyed trying out different wands, but after some time has passed, panic started to kick in. He had only twenty minutes till Hogwarts Express’ departure and he still had yet to get there. He felt his stomach sank at the thought of not getting there in time. Lucius would have a time of his life. And Voldemort… he wasn’t exactly sure what the man’s reaction would be now that Harry has been branded and lowered to position of a mere follower.

            “Couldn’t we… fasten up a little here?” he asked finally, putting down another wand that had failed to live up to Olivander’s expectations. To him, every wand felt sort of like his wand from Voldemort.

            “It’s extraordinary. I’ve never had a client this picky.”

            Olivander did seem to notice Harry’s growing annoyance. He also didn’t look so tired anymore. The man was jumping from pile to pile, throwing him wands without a glance and it would be a disaster if Harry hadn’t had such good reflex.

            “I really feel like all of them are fine…”

            “No, no, they can’t be just _fine_. They have to fit perfectly.” Olivander looked around, taking in the mess they’ve made. “Well, of course there is this one… But that would be…” He gave Harry a strange look. “No, he’s just a boy…”

            “Whatever it is, let’s be done with it. I have a train to catch.”

            Without another word Olivander went further into the shop. Harry lost sight of him and started to wonder if he shouldn’t just grab any wand, leave some money and run. Before he managed to bring himself to do this, Olivander reappeared, holding a box marked with a big red “x” on top. Harry wasn’t sure if it was his imagination or not, but the man looked a little bit frightened.

            Harry watched him open the box and pull out a perfectly ordinary looking wand. What was the fuss about?

            “This wand… has a twin sister. Its core is a Phoenix’s feather. The other feather is in a wand wielded by the most powerful wizard the world has ever known.”

            “Voldemort,” Harry breathed, closing in to the wand. Suddenly it didn’t feel so ordinary at all.

            Olivander jumped, looking at Harry as if the boy had lost his mind.

            “He Who Must Not Be Named!” he shrieked.

            “I’m sorry, who?” Harry finally lifted his gaze from the wand, eyeing the wizard with confusion.

            “Boy, where have you been for the past eleven years?”

            “Um…” Locked away in Voldemort’s manor.

            “You mustn’t speak his name. It draws his attention to the person who uses his name so freely. And no man should want that,” Olivander explained gravelly, his eyes all around the place, as if expecting Voldemort to jump out of a bookstand.

            “Sounds a little paranoid.” Harry knew for a fact that Voldemort wouldn’t be bothered with common people using his name. The Dark Lord didn’t care about people in general, let alone peasants gossiping. “I don’t think it’s that easy to get his attention. He probably has other things to do than listen to mind-radio, waiting to hear his name like an excited teenage girl.”

            Olivander looked at him, horrified.

            “You should learn some respect, boy.”

            “Yeah, I think I’ve heard that one before.” He winced. “Anyway…”

            He grabbed the wand from the counter. It felt like his magic was waking up from a deep sleep. The wand was almost trembling in his hand. He flicked his wrist, sending red sparks up to the ceiling. With that, a warm feeling went down his spine. It was as if he had been missing something crucial and now he has been made whole again.

            “Amazing,” exclaimed startled wandmaker.

            Harry nodded in agreement. Then, he jumped, panic rising again.

            “I will never make it to the station! Great, so good that I have found this wand that fits me perfectly… now I can never use it, because I won’t go to Hogwarts!” He gave a short, high-pitched laugh.

            Olivander didn’t seem interested in Harry’s problem.

            “It will be seven galleons. Good day to you, boy.”

            Harry stood there for a moment, staring at the wizard in disbelief. The old man was already cleaning up the place as if Harry was already gone.

            Muttering under his breath, he placed the money on the counter and left the shop without another word. He sure as hell didn’t like that crazy wandmaker. He would be surprised if the man had remembered from their meeting anything other than selling a wand that had a twin sister.

            “Now what?” he asked himself, feeling lost.

            He had his two wands, his truck, dozen of books and was two minutes late for the Express. Wizards and witches were passing him by, not one of them curious about a boy who was too young to be on his own.

            It wasn’t the first time he’d felt alone, but it hit him harder than ever. He didn’t know anyone except Lucius, who had been ordered by the Dark Lord to spend time with Harry. Not exactly something you call a friend material.

            Someone bumped into him, hard. He stumbled, almost falling down on the ground.

            “Hey!” he screamed, facing the man who had almost run him over.

            Only he knew him. He was one of Voldemort’s followers, the man with a permanent scowl on his face.

            “What are you doing here? Are you… are you spying on me?”

            The scowl on wizard’s face darkened. He now looked like he was sent there to kill Harry rather than spy on him.

            “And our Lord was right to tell me so! You obnoxious brat, can’t you even catch a train when you’re supposed to?

            “Voldemort told you to follow me?” Harry’s face brightened.

            The man grabbed him roughly and pushed him to the nearest abandoned alley.

            “Let go of me!”

            But he didn’t, instead he tightened his grip and Harry felt that ground was slipping away from him. And there it was, the same feeling he’d experienced with Lucius. They were apparating.

            This time, he was prepared for the nausea. He closed his eyes, waiting for them to go away. The man finally let go of him. Wherever they’ve found themselves, it was as noisy as Diagon Alley. Harry slowly decided that it’s safe to open his eyes, but had to blink few times before he’d believed that what he was seeing was real.

            They were in the Ministry of Magic. He’d read about it and saw pictures of it, so he had a vague idea of it, but he would have never thought that it’d be so enormous. He couldn’t tell where was the ceiling and was pretty sure that the hall could contain at least three manors. People were rushing into different directions and more of them jumped out of the fireplaces in venomously green flames. At the centre of the hall stood fifteen meters high statue. It was made of black stone that shone brilliantly, reflecting light. The statue was of dozen wizards, standing in a circle and holding hands. It would be a surprisingly sweet image if not for the blood dripping from their hands onto the statue’s platform. Puddles of scarlet liquid were forming on the platform, staining wizards’ boots. Frozen faces of the wizards were a picture of serenity and happiness.

            It sent a chill down Harry’s spine.

On the front of the platform it was engraved “Remember the loss of those you lost” in gold letters.

            “Catchy, don’t you think?”

            Harry lifted his gaze from the statue and looked at the woman in front of him. She was standing next to the guy with a scowl (still scowling at Harry), her dark, merciless eyes shining with excitement as she inspected Harry. Her black hair fell loosely in waves to her small waist. She wore a very expensive looking dark-green robe with a gold “M” pin attached to her right side. Her features were sharp and cruel.

            “Minister for Magic. It’s an honour,” Harry may have been locked away for ten years, but he wasn’t blind to the world.

            Minister appeared to be pleased with him.

            “It’s about time we met, Harry. I’ve heard so much about you.”

            “I’ve read lots about you, Minister. Does it count?”

            She answered with a dangerous smile.

            “Okay, that’s it, stop with the pleasantries, Bella, I have places to be,” growled the wizard.

            “Regulus, so nice to see you too. Still a savage then?” Her honeyed voice cut through air like a knife.

            “Funny, how would you like it if you had to babysit the brat?”

            Harry rolled his eyes at the man.

            “Well, Black, I think I wouldn’t dare to think wrongly about our Lord’s orders. Would you?” She asked innocently.

            Regulus gave her an annoyed look.

            “And here we are again. You just can’t stop yourself from obsessing over any little thing that could have offended the Dark Lord, can you? I assure you, if I were cursing our Lord in my mind, he would have known.”

            “I’m just looking out for him. Maybe that’s why he made _me_ the Minister for Magic, and not you.”

            Harry snickered. The two wizards looked at him, suddenly remembering about his existence.

            “I just find the concept of Voldemort needing someone to look after him quite hilarious, that’s all,” he explained.

            Bellatrix looked like she had been struck by lightening.

            “You… you dare… to say his name?” She whispered fiercely.

            “Ah.” Regulus clasped his hands with unusual glee. “You’re going to get along just fine. Bella, be a dear and get him to Hogwarts. I’m done here.” He paid them sardonic respects and apparated.

            Harry scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, still under threatening glare of Bellatrix.

            “So… can I go to Hogwarts now? Please?”

     


	4. Friends and Enemies

            Bellatrix Lestrange wasn’t so keen on babysitting Harry after all. She told some guy named Crouch to get Harry to Hogwarts and there they were, Harry being apparated third time during the day. He felt like a very unwanted ball that people were passing on to each other.

            They appeared before massive entrance gates. The sun was high in the sky, just above the highest tower of Hogwarts. It was warm, even though the air had an autumn coldness. Harry squinted his eyes, admiring the breath-taking construction up on the hill. The castle made an impression even during the day. He’d read everything there was about it, but the pictures didn’t do justice to the building. It was spectacular, the whole castle took half the sky and the thousands of windows were glittering in the sunlight.

            “Quite the view, don’t you think?” the young wizard grinned at Harry.

            His voice was nice enough, which took Harry by surprise. He wouldn’t exactly count any of his previous companions as particularly friendly.

            “It’s amazing,” he admitted, his eyes still lingering on the castle.

            “Yeah, I still remember my first time getting here. Obviously, I didn’t miss the train and, let me tell you, I’m not one to point out, but you’re gonna regret not having seen Hogwarts for the first time after dusk. After experiencing that, you can safely say that you’ve seen everything there is to see.”

            “I’m only eleven _and_ I’d been locked up from the rest of the world for the past ten years of my life, I think I’m in no position to say that.”

            Crouch’s eyes, cold like a shark’s, studied him. Slowly, a smirk appeared on the man’s face.

            “You’re something, aren’t you? The Dark Lord had kept you locked like a dirty, little secret, but now it seems that you have a brain of your own, huh? This is going to be so fun,” he shivered with anticipation.

            Harry’s brows rose at the man. Maybe he’d mistaken niceness with craziness.

            “So, you’re one of his, too?”

            Crouch barked with laughter. Harry crossed his arms, regarding the laughing wizard with growing hostility.  

            “My apologizes, Harry, I’m not laughing at you,” he finally breathed, noticing the change in Harry’s posture. “Our dear Lucius really should have taught you better… But I’m guessing he’d assumed that you wouldn’t need any basic knowledge about our world before putting you out there in the open?”

            “Well, I had been reading…”

            The wizard made a disapproving sound.

            “You won’t find anything up-to-date in those books. We’re in the middle of changing history, Harry; the books that are going to finally cover our times will be about us. Isn’t that something, huh?” He wasn’t expecting a response. “We don’t have much time before someone comes to pick you up, but let’s see… First of all, everyone who is working in the Ministry, works for the Dark Lord. The… hm… let's say, special task force, his most loyal followers, are called the Death Eaters. I’m one of them, obviously…”

            “I know who the Death Eaters are.” He was glad that he knew at least something about this world. Quickly rolling up his sleeve, he flashed the Dark Mark in front of the speechless man.

            Crouch stared at it for a good minute. When he’d gathered himself, he looked at Harry with weird fascination in his dark eyes. Harry found it disturbing, covering his mark as an excuse to break off the eye contact.

            “Before you, I was his youngest branded follower.” Crouch spoke quietly.

            “I guess… I never had a choice?” Harry offered, eyeing the gates with anticipation. He really didn’t like where this was going.

            Suddenly, as if the strange silence had never happened, Crouch was smiling again. His eyes remained cold and, Harry had finally realized what it was, crazy.

            “No, no one has a choice when in company of our Lord.”

            Just when Harry was starting to lose hope that anyone would actually come to get him and rescue from Crouch’s company, the gate silently opened before them. Out from nowhere a strange looking wizard appeared. His robe was sky-blue and glittering, he had the longest beard Harry had ever seen and from the first impression he looked like a weird grandpa. But the longer Harry had watched him, the more he was realising that the wizard’s eyes were bright and glimmering with intelligence behind a half-moon spectacles. There was an air of power around the man that made Crouch step away. It was different than magic around Voldemort, far more comforting and light, but possibly just as strong.

            “Harry, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” the wizard spoke jubilantly.

            “I didn’t realise that ordinary students were now greeted by the infamous headmaster himself,” Crouch hissed, glaring at the old man.

            “Ah, Barty, it’s nice to see you. I hope you’re well?” asked the headmaster politely and actually winked at Crouch.

            “Hopefully better than you, Dumbledore,” murmured Barty, but still loud enough for the man to hear him.

            The wizard called Dumbledore just smiled kindly as if Crouch was a troubled child who needed comforting.

            Harry studied Dumbledore carefully, who, in turn, studied him just as closely. He’d heard the name before, back in the manor. Lucius had spoken about this Dumbledore on numerous occasions, every time expressing his most distaste with the wizard.

            “Good morning, headmaster,” wariness in Harry’s voice was palpable.

            “Well then,” started Dumbledore merrily, paying no mind to Harry’s rather cold greeting, “we shall take our leave, Barty. We’re going to take good care of Harry at Hogwarts, you can assure Tom of that.”

            Harry could feel Crouch stiffen at the words. To his surprise, Dumbledore didn’t seem to notice the scowl Barty gave him. Harry was pretty sure that if the gaze could kill, the old wizard would be long dead.

            But who was this Tom?

            “You dare…” Crouch looked like he was on the verge of mental breakdown. “Don’t think that you’re going to hide in this little school of yours much longer, Dumbledore. Your days are numbered.” His voice was trembling with hate and poison.

            Dumbledore took few steps closer to Barty, standing right before the young wizard. Harry could feel the air growing colder by the second.

            “Barty, I’m all for expressing yourself, but do stop and think that we’re not alone.” Dumbledore spoke quietly, his eyes clouded.

            Dumbledore’s merriness returned just as quick as it had disappeared. Stepping away from Barty, he extended his arm for Harry to take. Although not quite convinced, Harry took it nonetheless.

            “Thanks,” he’d managed to say to Crouch before being turned away by a rather forceful grip.

            Surprisingly forceful for an old man like Dumbledore, Harry mused, striding down the Hogwarts’ grounds.

            “So, Harry, I’m most curious about you and, forgive an old man, I would like to take this time to get to know you a little better.”

*

            As Crouch was left before the entrance gates, he curled his hands into fists, his eyes still fixed on the slowly disappearing figures of Harry and the old fool. He had to warn his Lord about this.

            A cold shiver crept down his spine at the thought of the Dark Lord’s rage. But he couldn’t have handled it better, could he? It certainly wasn’t Crouch’s fault that the old fool had come for Harry. Will the Dark Lord see it that way?

            The memory of pain after the last time he’d disappointed his Lord was still fresh, but he apparated without another thought. It was not his place to wonder how will the Dark Lord take the news.

            The corridor he’d apparated to, led to golden doors with a big “M” engraved in the middle of them. Deciding that a knock would be unnecessary, Crouch waltzed into the office of Minister for Magic. Just as he’d anticipated, the woman in question shot him a death glare that had stopped making an impression on him before she had become famous for it.

            “Barty,” she growled.

            “I’m just passing by, Bella dear.”

            Only few chosen ones knew about a hidden room in the office of Minister for Magic that belonged to a certain Dark Lord. The Dark Lord enjoyed being the puppet master from the shadows of political scene.

            “Oh, are you, now?” She asked sweetly, looking up from the documents. “How do you know that he’s going to have you?”

            “Bella, you are _not_ a dragon in charge of guarding its treasures and gold. I’m quite certain that our Lord can manage without your constant vigilance.”

            “Well, I, for one, won’t let someone like you to barge in to the Dark Lord’s study–.”

            “That’s enough, Bellatrix.” A cold ice voice cut her right off.

            The man had noiselessly emerged from the hidden doors in the bookstand and was glaring at them with a bored expression.

            As always, Barty couldn’t help but admire his Lord’s appearance. The man was looking exquisite in his rich jet-black robes and dragonskin boots. Hadn’t the Dark Lord been, well, a dark lord, Barty would have fallen for him in matter of seconds. But the raw power pouring out of the wizard was enough to sober him up.

            Clearly, it wasn’t the case with Bellatrix. Barty suspected that she has lost her mind somewhere over the years she’d spent at her Master’s side, consumed by her desire for him.

            “What is it that you want, Barty?” The Dark Lord asked silkily.

            He blinked, realising that the man’s attention was solely focused on him. How many years has he been working for the wizard? How is it possible that every time those red eyes were on him, he felt like a teenager again?

            “My Lord, I delivered Harry Potter to Hogwarts…”

            “You did what?” The Dark Lord’s devoid of emotions eyes narrowed.

            “Bella,” Barty sneered, but not dared to glare at her.

            Voldemort leaned comfortably against a bookstand with his hands crossed, regarding his followers with an expectant look. Surprisingly, he seemed more amused than cross with them.

            “The boy had missed Hogwarts Express, my Lord. Black brought him to me and, well, I’m the Minister for Magic, I don’t have time to hold Potter’s hand, so I ordered Barty to get it done. I mean, to get the boy to Hogwarts.”

            The Dark Lord quirked an eyebrow, his expression unfazed.

            “And I was waiting with Harry in front of the gates when Dumbledore arrived.” Barty finished reluctantly.

            He didn’t have to turn to know that Bellatrix had been petrified by his words. What was far more interesting was his Lord’s reaction. The man actually chuckled.

            “Ah, yes, I can see why it must have been stressful for you, Barty, to meet the old fool. I believe he was your headmaster, too, no? Still feeling a bit respectful towards him?”

            “What…? No!” He exclaimed, so disgusted at the mere thought that he’d forgotten with whom he was speaking.

            “Touching,” drawled Voldemort, his amusement quickly turning into boredom. “You have nothing to worry about, I’m in no way threatened by Dumbledore. Besides,” his lips curled into a mocking smile, “I have Bellatrix to protect me, haven’t I?”

            Lestrange’s face flushed a fine shed of red and Crouch bowed, feeling ridiculous.

            “I never meant to say that–.”

            “Yes, I highly doubt you would, Barty.” Voldemort made a dismissive gesture with his wand. “ _Crucio_.”

*

            “I’m just… Harry.”

            The headmaster glanced at him, his blue eyes twinkling.

            “That you are, my boy, but tell me, where have you been these past years?”

            “Why are you asking, professor?” He answered, trying to come off as an innocent eleven-year-old who wouldn’t have anything to do with dark lords and stuck up, slimy, blonde bastards.

            “I think it’s only fair to tell you, isn’t it?”

            For a while they were just walking through the path, enjoying the stroll in the sun. On Harry’s left side a dark forest seemed to stretch for miles, piquing his interest.

            “It’s called the Forbidden Forest. And it’s strictly off limits to students, I’m afraid.” Dumbledore mentioned leisurely.

            “Why? Is it dangerous?”

            Dumbledore smiled at him, which made Harry nervous. How did people deal with a person so damn _nice_? It set his teeth on edge. And the old man’s magic was so comforting that it actually made Harry feel even more on guard. Sure, Voldemort’s power was suffocating, but at least it was… straightforward.

            “It can be. Like everything if you give it a reason.”

            Harry frowned, choosing not to rise to the bait.

            As they were passing by, the lake’s dark surface rippled. Harry’s gaze lingered on the lake, trying to make out the cause of the ripples. It was headmaster’s next words that brought back his attention to the conversation.

            “You see, Harry, I’ve been looking for you for quite some time. I really do wonder what happened to you.” The man spoke gently.

            “Why were you looking for me?” He asked, startled. “Professor?” Adding quickly.

            “Your parents were dear friends of mine. I was naturally concerned for your well being.”

            “My parents? You mean, my father?” Harry’s voice turned cold. “My father, who was on your side.”

            They stopped at the hill. They were closing in to the castle, which looked even more glorious from up close. Setting sun was casting its orange glow on the grounds. The dark surface of the lake was shimmering beautifully.

            Dumbledore’s gaze never faltered, fixed on Harry. But Harry was doing everything he could to escape those penetrating eyes.

            What on earth? Was he freed from one lord just to stumble upon another one?

            “I don’t know what you heard, but your mother was on the side of the light just as your father was.”

            “Was she now?” Harry sneered, suddenly feeling furious and tired. He didn’t want to deal with this, not now, nor never. The old man was awfully curious and though he maintained an air of goodness around him, Harry had spent enough time with Voldemort to recognise power when he saw one. “And how would you know that, professor?”

            “Harry, your mother has been reported missing along with you on the day we’ve found your father’s body in their home. You’re the only one who could cast a light on this mystery.”

            “My mother is dead, professor. And I really would appreciate you to stop questioning me.”

            He met Dumbledore’s eyes, giving nothing away. A soft touch brushed his mind and he jumped, backing away from the old man.

            “You tried to use that mind-reading thing!” He accused a visibly shocked headmaster.

            “Those barriers around your mind; they aren’t yours, my boy. Was it the Dark Lord who had been messing with your head?” Asked Dumbledore with a sigh.

            Blue eyes were filled with sadness and worry, but Harry didn’t want to see it. It took all his self-control to hold his temper. He had to turn away from the man, his nails digging into his palms, almost drawing blood.

            “You’re just as manipulative and sly as he is, professor, but at least he doesn’t hide behind a mask of kindness. I don’t want to have anything to do with you, with all due respect,” he hissed, his voice tense with emotions.

            There was a moment of silence before Dumbledore replied:

            “As you wish, my boy. As you wish.” And as the man was turning to go, he added. “But just remember that I’m always here for you. And you are not alone. You never were.”

            Harry listened to the headmaster’s receding footsteps before letting out a soft sob.


End file.
